Late Night Pain

The nicotine stained walls

Bear witness

But no one else.

The windows covered with sheer,

Silky curtains                   

Not intended

For the rough skin I wear

They soak in the yellow

Of the cigarette burning

In this ashtray by my elbow

Ashes drift carelessly

As I flick them mindlessly

Swimming in the words of a song

That says all that I can’t

My pills nearby

I hold a beer – it’s my third

I know it’s wrong

It’s also reactive.

It’s like a pitchfork

Jamming into me

I don’t bleed, no….

I simply compound this pain

That I feel entitled to.

With each beer,

That entitlement strengthens

Eventually the beer and the song

They’re not enough.

The smoke goes out.

It’s just me and the dark

And the lonely

And the entitlement

And a razor blade.

Triggered by his name

Just saw his name mentioned on FB. Another friend I guess I'll have to delete. Tagged him at the Pattaconk - just like old times, I guess.

My whole body jolted. Just seeing his name. Remembering the things he did.

It's been determined that Trevor will need therapy to deal with the years he spent with Gary. Having talked with two separate LCSW's about getting help for Trevor, they've told me it's not something he will talk to me about, beyond his usual "I won't ever let you live [your relationship with Gary] down." They said he's going to need to talk to someone who will listen to him talk about the things Gary put him through.

I feel horribly guilty about this. I knew it was an issue. Gary and I constantly fought over Trevor. Mostly because he believed Trevor should behave like a "normal" kid and do "normal" things. Trevor was a puzzle piece that didn't fit neatly into Gary's picture-perfect image.

The day he said to Trevor that he was going to shove his fist down his throat, I should have left. That day. That instant. In that moment.

Instead, I stuck around and allowed him to theoretically do it to both Trevor and myself and now we are both paying for it. What he put Trevor through - what I allowed him to put Trevor through - is a terrible mistake that I have to live with and learn to heal and move on. My stupidity, hope and blindness kept me from leaving, as well as his repeated promises of change. So now Trevor and I carry this enormous bag, filled with five years of pain and hurt and humiliation and not being good enough.

While he goes out to karaoke at the Pattaconk.

And he has the audacity - the sheer idiotic, unimaginable insolence - to think I'm obsessed and want him involved in my life?

I couldn't be far enough away from him and his lies and his fakeness and perversions and distortions.

So grateful to have people in my life who understand and who know how just driving north on Route 9 causes me enormous anxiety. They know - have seen themselves - the emotional, physical and mental effects of his abuse and neglect. They help me, talk to me and mostly just understand. For that I am grateful. Trevor is a different story, though. He hides his emotions or, at least, cannot identify them. Just speaks of his hatred of the man and those years in Haddam when he was the victim of constant badgering and put-downs.

We have a lot of healing to do.

Called Police

Had to call the police the other night when I discovered two of my email accounts were shut down and my website was shut down. The officer was nice but at first didn't understand the gravity of the situation.

He asked if I would be willing to go with a police escort to get my things from "him" and I said, "You don't understand, officer. I have PTSD and DID and he triggers me worse than anyone or anything ever has."

Once I explained this - as well as the email and website issues - he contacted the ...other party, and then called me back.

He said the "other party" would be returning my things to the Essex police department, and an officer would bring them to me, but said there would have to be some contact in order for him to transfer ownership of my website. This is the most dreadful thing in the world to me - having to hear his voice. Just the thought of the things that happened, cause me to throw up. People have no idea...just have no idea....God...

The officer then told me there should be no further contact between us and I assured him that I have absolutely no desire to see, speak to or hear him at all, ever. Not because I hate him, but because I loved him so much, and I am still beyond mortified over the things he did to me. Deliberate things, horrible things, agonizing things.

He accused me of "stalking" him because I went to the same sitting spot I've gone to for months, with Bill, with no idea of whether or not his boat would be there. While there, his boat did show up and, yes, I yelled a few obscenities but I didn't really figure he heard me. It just felt good to scream...God it felt good to scream. He hurt me so bad, and still is. Just needless, vengeful, childish stuff...just exerting control, like always.

It hurts that I had to defriend a number of people from my friend's list because simply seeing a picture of his boat triggered me. It got that bad. It got that abusive. Plus he's concerned about his image. Ironic, I think, given what he's done to mine.

I immediately emailed my therapist. I was so shook up Friday night. I couldn't eat, kept gagging, crying, scared. I don't know why scared, but scared. Scared, I guess, that one person could have so much control over your life and you feel helpless to do anything about it. Scared of myself ...scared that my choices have led me to all these horrible relationships that always end up with me feeling terrified.

But never like this. I've never been affected like this.

All it does is make me question everyone and everything (including myself) even more (which is why I defriended so many people).

How can I trust, after this? How can I ever trust anyone with my journey? My pain and my experiences? How can I ever open up to anyone again when it was spat in my face, used to deliberately hurt me?

Gagging now, just thinking about it....

The no contact order was initiated by me, for the record, which isn't officially a 'no contact' order because there's no need - clearly we want nothing to do with each other. It was just an unofficial police officer telling us no contact.

Fine with me.

For you: You'll always have a place in my heart - I loved you deeply, and that doesn't just go away. I wish you the best and hope you have a happy life.

It's All About Image

My name is Cristina D. Johnson

This is an angry blog. Just a forewarning.

Woke up this morning with text messages from "him" - bouncing back and forth between being nice and being an ass. I was immediately triggered.

I have never, ever in my entire life had a single human being trigger me as instantaneously as he does.

I know why that is, too.

For about eight weeks, we were still living together. We would bounce back and forth between deciding whether or not to work it out, or whether or not splitting was the best choice. He would say, "You're the one who said you were done," never realizing he made it impossible for me to stay.

Then...he would go out. Not only would he go out, but he would tell people my private business. I was horrified beyond belief. I couldn't believe he would betray my trust - my deepest trust - in such a way. But he was very clever about it. He "told just a few people" (which means anyone, really) knowing damned good and well that these towns talk - everyone talks. Never using any common sense or decency, always without regard for my own dignity.

Oh God how it hurt. I've been writing my entire life and I can't think of a single word (or set of words) that can adequately describe the pain I was going through. The lies he told me - how he misled me about the wedding and instead took my "friend" "L" (who, incidentally is apparently not much of a friend since she hasn't even once contacted me to see how I'm doing. Instead she hangs out on his boat or goes out with him). He made me feel like the lowest form of life by telling me lies, and then going behind my back. He blew things out of proportion, made himself look like a super hero and divulged everything from my issues to my financial situation to people whose business it was none of, nor was it his right to do so. Especially to an incest survivor. OH MY GOD the things I'd shared!! I was beyond terrified. And nobody checked on me. They just took his word for it - poor, poor him. The victim, the savior. Oh he made himself look like the real hero and me...well I was just nothing. As I always had been.

I attempted suicide. I was in crisis. It's not uncommon for people with my disorders. Neither is a lot of stuff - cutting, binging, drinking, drugs, etc. but the triggering...Dear God, every night he would trigger me, telling me he was going out, knowing it would trigger me and then carelessly walking away.

(Definition: Anything that brings about a symptom of PTSD. For example, a news story about the Iraq War may cause a veteran with PTSD to have thoughts and memories about the war. Triggers may include people, places, sounds, words, and/or smells. Source: http://ptsd.about.com/od/glossary/g/triggerdef.htm)

That about sums it up.

Being abandoned, being cheated on, being lied to, being talked about behind my back and then being told - when I asked - no, begged - him to please stop talking about me.

"You're just trying to control who I talk to and what I say," he would respond angrily. "It's my life."

"No, it's my information and my private business that I'm asking you not to share."

"It's none of your goddamn business who I talk to or what I say," he said one night.

He would say and do things, knowing they were going to trigger me and when the panic attacks came on, he would causally walk away, go out to his van, and go party - pretending his life was perfect as I sat alone in the house, mortified, horrified, embarrassed to be seen by anyone.

That was one of the most insidious aspects of his telling people (and of him telling me that people were talking about me): He never would tell me who he told what, and who said what so I was there, like a nothing. I had no importance, ever. I was nothing....just something to gossip about and he being him, would do all he could to protect his image. Because, after all, it's all about image.

He's not the person people think he is. He went out and made himself out to be a victim - which, in a way, he was; a secondary victim of my abuse and at times of my own verbal abuse.

When he would trigger me, I would become irrationally angry. Actually, it was profound pain that was misplaced (being triggered brings back feelings, memories, sensations, etc. from your past) and the only way I knew to react was by anger because that's what happens when you grow up on the streets: you fight.

I was also living in complete disbelief. How could someone who said they loved me, do this to me? How could he? I wasn't unreasonable - I was trying to get out as soon as I possibly could because it hurt to be there - but I asked him to please, please just wait until I'm gone before you start going out. Please.

Nope.

So it  got to the point where even hearing his footsteps or his early-morning coughing was sending shockwaves through my body. I was uncontrollably triggered and stuck.

"You can go out if you want," he would say, never considering how mortified I was that he told everyone my personal business. He even told people he fixed my car for me, never divulging the fact that it was OUR  car and it broke down because of OUR use and should have been fixed at least a year ago. It just so happened to be in my name. So he made sure he looked good.  Made sure everyone knew how much he loved me.

We can see that now, can't we? As he takes his new gf out on his fancy boat (which he cannot afford)? Yeah he loved me alright.

No....if love bit him twice in the ass he wouldn't know what it was.

Because, for him, when love gets complicated, it's too much.

So then he starts accusing me of being violent. Violent because I would grab the front of his shirt and cry and plead and beg, "Why are you leaving me? You said you wouldn't leave me! Why are you giving up on me!? You said you never would leave me!" ...this, is violence, for which he would call the cops on me if I ever did it again. (another huge trigger of mine, btw, being a child of the system - and a trigger he's well aware of).

In this morning's text messages, he flipped back and forth between being nice and being not-so-nice, even with a veiled threat about how if [my blog] begins to effect him, he'll handle it then.

Well, here I am - being real. Spread out wide open, everyone knows my secrets and my sins. Everyone knows my shame, now, because I chose to tell it - not because someone with no morals or sense of loyalty decided to spread it around. Because for me, it's no longer all about image.

It's about being real - and I'm being real.

Nothing in my blog is a lie, distortion or exaggeration.

I was so thrown off today just by his text messages this morning that the entire day was a trigger until I was exhausted.

I laid down and fell asleep, only to have a nightmare about him. Him and his brother.

They were being so cruel in my dream - heartless, cruel, vicious.

Control. Image.

It's all about that, isn't it?

Image?

What a fool I was to fall into that trap - to drown myself in this pool of high fa-looting, the-world-is-my-oyster, pretending to be someone and something I wasn't. And why? To live up to his expectations?

Well, who the hell is HE? A cheater, a liar, a fake? And *I* was trying to live up to HIS expectations?

But when the going got tough and I needed him more than anything in the world, he fled - to another woman (which he admitted to, but now denies) and is now seeing, (surely just coincidence).

Then...out of nowhere, came friends and supporters - people who aren't so obsessed with their image. People who've either been there or understand or want to help or want to be friends with me or want to help me.

I discovered in this process - this process of coming out and telling my truth and being real- who my friends truly are. Painfully, I also learned who, among those I've known for five years now, are not.

I could go on and talk about the REAL person I know - the reality of his life but he has to live with himself. He must be exhausted - just like I was - holding up such a fake facade, living up to others' expectations, trying to be something he isn't.

But unlike him - I have empathy. I pity him, despite the fact that he is the single most biggest trigger of any person ever in my life. I have never, ever been triggered by anyone as much as him - mostly because of the deliberate and intentional pain he put me through. Mr. Perfect. Mr. Wonderful. Oh but if people only knew the truth...

This is the end of my angry blog and I must say that in the past five years I've met two amazing people - R & R - father and daughter. Dad R is so authentic and lovely, wonderful and fantastic and daughter R is the same. To them I say: I miss you. I always authentically loved you both.